Take Me to Church
by darnedchild
Summary: "Really, Molly." Suddenly he was directly behind her. "No idea why people think you're incapable of human emotion. That's a direct quote, I believe." (A short fic for Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019 - Day 6)


Day 6 : Molly – "[I've] No idea why people think you're incapable of human emotion."

Sherlock – "I'm worried about you, Molly, you seem very stressed."

**Take Me to Church**

She felt his touch at her elbow before she heard him speak. "Molly, I need your assistance."

Honestly, she was grateful for a reason to make her excuses to the chatty couple who had cornered her in the church lobby after Rosie's Christening. She vaguely recognized them from John and Mary's wedding, but she hadn't a clue as to their names.

Sherlock shifted his hand to the small of her back and led her away. She waited until they were walking down an empty hallway and well out of earshot to offer her thanks.

"I was running out of things to talk about that didn't involve the unseasonable weather we've been having."

He hummed distractedly as he pushed open a door and peered into a room, then pulled the door shut again and continued down the hall.

He checked two more rooms before her curiosity got the best of her. "What are we looking for?"

"I'll know it when I see it." Sherlock urged her on to the next door and must have found what he'd been searching for as he pushed the door open wider and gestured for her to go first.

The room was small, no bigger than a storage closet, and filled with uncovered boxes full of old church programs and handouts. He flipped the switch just inside the room and the light above flickered to life the door swung shut behind them. She looked at the large number of boxes and sighed. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to find whatever it was in all that.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, already peering into the closest box. The flyer on top was dated two weeks ago.

"Really, Molly." Suddenly he was directly behind her. "No idea why people think you're incapable of human emotion. That's a direct quote, I believe."

She instinctively knew that it would only take a single step back for her to end up pressed against his chest, that was how close he was standing to her. "Pardon?" She tried to turn but his hands grasped her hips and held her in place, still facing the boxes.

"I think you, of all people, should know that's not true."

"What?" She knew she must sound ridiculous, suddenly unable to offer anything more complex than one-word sentences.

"How many long conversations have we had at Barts over the years?" Surely she hadn't felt the tickle of his breath against the nape of her neck when he spoke.

"How often did you let me stay over at yours when I couldn't bear to spend one more night alone and lost in my memories after I came back to London?" She definitely felt his cheek against her hair, felt his fingers clutch her hips tighter.

"And how many times did you hear me try to stifle my desperate groans as I drove myself to completion in your shower?" This time his lips brushed the shell of her ear and Molly shuddered. His fingers tightened at her hips, sharply pulling her back and into the warmth of his body. "Did you hear me call your name as I came, Molly? Sometimes I wondered. I'd come out of your bathroom, relaxed and utterly sated, and you wouldn't meet my eyes."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She hadn't heard him doing . . . any of that. Had she? Maybe, maybe a few times she had thought-but she'd told herself she'd imagined it.

"Pity." One of his hands slowly slid around her waist to rest against her stomach. He spread his fingers wide and she was intensely aware of how low his little finger dipped. "Still, all of that seems very human to me. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I-Yes?" God, she didn't know if she wanted to push away or melt back against him. None of this was making any sense. Two hours ago they were merely good friends, the kind who could tease each other and share inside jokes and occasionally picture each other naked . . . Wait, no. Please lord, let her not have said any of that out loud.

She felt as if she were practically vibrating with sexual tension, and she had no idea of she liked the feeling or not.

"I'm worried about you, Molly, you seem very stressed." His teeth grazed the side of her throat and she moaned. "Would you like me to help you relax?"

"Here?" she squeaked.

She felt him smile against her skin. "For a start."

He didn't move for a long moment, holding himself impossibly still, and she began to wonder if he'd changed his mind. "Molly," Sherlock prompted. "I asked you a question."

"Oh! Yes. God, yes."

The hand at her hip shifted up to cup her breast and she felt her knees go weak. His voice was low and deliciously warm when he whispered, "Lift your skirt for me."

She didn't even think of denying him. It only took a moment for her to bunch her dress up to her waist and for his hand to cup her sex. "Are you wet, Molly?"

It took her two tries to gasp out a breathy 'yes'.

"I'm not going to fuck you now. Mary would know the moment she saw us."

He was right, but it didn't stop her disappointed whimper from slipping out.

"And we both deserve better than our first time together to be bent over a stack of boxes in a supply cupboard." He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and sought out her wet heat. "But we can take the edge off. Can't we, Molly?"

"Please, Sherlock," she moaned.

He bit her throat just hard enough to make sure he had her attention. "You must be quiet, Molly. We're in a church." Even as he spoke, he stroked the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs and she had to bite her lip hard to keep from groaning his name again.

His erection was insistently grinding against her arse, and she revelled in the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He used the hand at her breast to keep her pressed back against his chest as he licked and gently used his teeth on the skin of her throat.

The tension began to build with every stroke of his fingers against her clit, and she nearly cried out when he slowly inserted a finger into her channel.

"You're so wet. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?"

She did not, and wouldn't have been able to answer him even if she had. Every bit of her was focused on the movement of his fingers and the climax that was just outside of her reach.

"Come back to Baker Street with me. Let me spread you out on my bed and show you how human I can be."

She whimpered and bit her lower lip. "So close."

"Say yes, Molly. Say yes and I'll let you come."

"Yes! Yes, yes, Sherlock, please!"

His fingers found the perfect rhythm and her orgasm overwhelmed her. She would have collapsed on weakened knees if he hadn't been holding her so tightly.

She had no idea how long he supported her before she managed to catch her breath. His erection was still pressed against her arse. "What about you?" She pulled away and turned to face him, placing the palm of her hand just above his fly. "Would you like me to . . ."

Sherlock caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth to brush a kiss her fingers. "Any other time I would happily let you do anything you want to me, but we've already been gone too long. Tonight."

"Anything I want?" Molly couldn't help but ask.

"Anything. Everything. Whatever you want from me, it's yours."


End file.
